Before I post, I’d like to link to Diamond Geezer’s post. That I feel summed up what I believe in the ‘fuck you all, I’m carrying on’ that us Brits have.
As you may be aware, Tuesday was my graduation from University. An early, 8-ish start meant that I had to be up even earlier than a work day, as I wanted to look my best. Tuesday was no exception, as I had a shower in the morning (something which I never do). With my Welsh tie, white shirt and dark suit, I was ready to hit the town.
I like wearing suits, I feel like king of the world wearing one, and walk feeling 10 feet tall. Unfortunately, at 10 feet tall, it’s bloody hard to see where your feet are going, and by standing in a dead pidgeon wasn’t the kind of thing to do. With little time to change my shoes, I decided to jump into the deepest puddle I could find whilst lifting my clean trousers up to wash off the bloody feathers.
Sure enough, it worked – and whilst references were made to my unpolished shoes – the mornings events went almost unnoticed.
I was one of the first to collect my gown, which had less form than I imagine (it had no definite arm holes, just two dangly things where the underarm should of been, I looked like Dr. Octopus from Spiderman). I waited around for my parents, but they told me they were going to be late. So I got my photo taken, and headed for the Philharmonic Hall.
The crowd was different to when I went to see Dave Gorman, and certainly different to when my mate went to see a KISS Tribute band there. A hell of a lot more formal, and people wearing these silly gowns. Also, you could see the back off the hall.
Apologies for my mum’s shoddy camerawork, which is a theme throughout the pictures.
Anyway, after about an hour or so of sitting doing nothing except laughing at names in the program (included one of the honorary degrees: Sir James White Black, and somebody called Mohammed Hassan, the congregation came in, led to a piece of music which sounded similar to Mr. Perfect’s theme music from the WWF, and the two hour ceremony started.
The next two hours were a bit of a blur, as the ceremony was just this guy reading out a string of names, they go up, shake hands with the Chancellor (who I’ve actually never seen before until today), recieve their degree, and sit down.
My time came, and – lo and behold – they pronounced my name correctly. In my three years at the department, I have been called all matters of name – with “Rice Wine” as my worst (so much so that some people jokingly call me “Sake”, as in the Japanese Wine made from Rice). Not only did they get my name right, they pronounced it the Welsh way. Hell, I’m impressed, even I have trouble pronouncing my name the Welsh way.
Anyway, after the graduation, we got invited to our department for food, here are some pictures.
Me, my mum and my dad.
(l-r) Alfie, myself, Ian and Ste. Posing for pictures.
After the event (and a change of clothign) we headed to Barracuda for some more alcohol, in which I got very drunk, and ended up telling one girl “Do I look like a fucking Mafia bear”. Answers on a postcard to for the origional question, in a jeopardy stylee.
So now I’m back in Colwyn Bay for a few days, after going out with Vicky for a curry, which was very nice. Anyway, guess who gave me a lift home. Only Laura! To say it was random is to say the least. She said she has given strangers a lift home before, I only wished I commanded a little more respect than that! I don’t remember much of what I said, she was finishing work, I was pissed. Conversation was brief at best.
Anyway, to quote Blogjam: Bollocks to this, I’m off to Edinburgh. See you in a few days!